


Part Time Lovers

by aerynthesebacean



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11658519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerynthesebacean/pseuds/aerynthesebacean
Summary: When the Iron Bull finds out there's a beautiful redhead in Skyhold, he can't keep his eyes off her. But his advances feel all too familiar to Ophelia. (Trigger warning: mentions of self harm. Rated M for language, possibly NSFW later)Feedback is greatly appreciated!





	1. Chapter 1

Ophelia noticed that the Qunari amongst the Inquisitor’s companions stared at her every time she passed him. At first, she assumed it was curiosity, or an attempt to read her. She had heard that he was still working as a spy for the Qun, Ben-Hassrath, or so she was told. But now she _knew_ that he was just staring. They had shared snippets of conversation, initiated by him, that she obliged to so as not to appear rude.

 _This feels a whole like how Zev and I met_ , she thought to herself. She fiddled with the gold hoop in her right ear, as small as it was, it always brought her comfort when her fingers found their way to the metal. A reminder of what she had, _who_ she had. She loved Zevran, and he loved her, and the pair had a mutual agreement when it came to pleasure. Knowing that their fates often meant that they were separate from each other, they were free to seek pleasure, as Ophelia preferred to call it, or sex as Zevran preferred to call it, whenever they desired. They knew it was pleasure and nothing more, what the pair had ran deeper than that, they loved each other, and that love meant being aware of each other’s needs.

Ophelia was sat at the bar in the tavern in Skyhold. She rubbed her temple gently, nursing the drink the gruff Dwarven bartender had given her. The calling that Corypheus had set upon them was in her head, incessantly clawing at her mind, tempting, teasing. It was a burden, one that could be washed away with alcohol. She saw the hulking figure of the Iron Bull walking over to her from his usual spot at the side by Krem, the handsome Charger that worked for the qunari. Ophelia stifled the groan that left her mouth, if she had learnt anything from what Emilia had told her, he was going to flirt mercilessly.

“He has a thing for redheads.” She had said, “And I think you have a thing for him, too.”

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

Ophelia’s problem was that she was _terrible_ at flirting. With Zevran, it had been easy, he did all the flirting for her, _he_ propositioned _her_ , she simply said ‘yes’. Though if Emilia was correct, it might go the same way here.

“Two drinks,” Bull’s voice boomed as he took up a seat next to her. Ophelia looked across the bar, towards the Iron Bull, nobody was sat next to him, so why had he bought another drink? She had barely finished her thought before she saw the second flagon being pushed towards her by a grey elbow. She flicked her eyes up to his face, to see his one eye trained on hers, she felt her face flush, she looked away immediately. _He must be reading me like an open fucking book_ , she thought, feeling the redness in her cheeks intensify. Ophelia found her pouch of coins on the side of her dress, and put the coppers on the bar, enough for the pair, the dwarf slid the money across the counter towards himself. “You didn’t have to do that,” The Bull said quietly. Ophelia shrugged. “No really, I already paid.”

“And I didn’t, that was for my previous ones.” She lied, holding up her now empty flagon.

“Okay,” The Bull chuckled, unconvinced, but he wasn’t going to let her know that, she was clearly embarrassed enough as it was, and she was _very_ clearly a proud woman. Ophelia took the drink, assuming that Bull would insist that she drink it, or at very least claim it as her drink. “How have you been finding your time at Skyhold? You look uneasy wherever you go, why?” Ophelia’s filter had crumbled, she didn’t have a high tolerance for drink, so words came easier.

“Oh, just the fact that Corypheus has faked the Calling which is giving me constant headaches and has the others shitting themselves, except that other warden here, extraordinary don’t you think? And _you_ -“ She stopped herself, if she continued talking she knew she’d say something that she would later regret, so she kept her mouth shut. Bull smirked to himself, his suspicions had been right, her chest had turned a slight shade of pink, easily noticeable against her pale skin. He was equally relieved that she was opening up to him, though he knew there was little he could do to actually help her situation,

“And drinking helps I guess? With the Calling, not with _me_.” He replied.

“To a degree, yes, but the whispers are always there.” Her expression was pained momentarily, but as soon as it registered, it had disappeared again as she took a sip of the drink Bull had so kindly paid for.

She almost choked on it, coughing loudly as the liquid she could only assume was corrosive burned down her throat. Bull roared with laughter,

“That’ll put some chest on your chest!” Ophelia glared at him, wiped her mouth and then took another swig, trying to contain her cough this time. Oh, she _was_ proud.  
A moment of silence lapsed between the two as Ophelia composed herself,

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me.” She spoke, breaking the quiet,

“And I’ve seen the way _you_ have been looking at _me_.”

“But why? It’s not like I’m much to look at, there are _far_ better looking women, far better looking men!” Bull saddened slightly, _this is what she thinks of herself?_

“You, dear woman, are beautiful, just as beautiful as the women and certainly better looking than the men. And you’re a redhead.” He replied, his voice deepening as he spoke. She scoffed, taking another sip of her drink.

“You sound just like Zev,” She said quietly, with a small chuckle.

“Oh, are you spoken for? That’s why you’ve been so unwilling, I-“

“Yes and no. It’s complicated? I mean, not really but…”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I… Uh- I need another drink.” She said, chugging the rest of her drink, coughing again before wiping her mouth. She stood up quickly, almost knocking the bar stool over as she did.

“You going somewhere?”

“Yes, and you’re coming with me.” She said, her words elongating ever so slightly, before she turned around and walked towards the tavern door. His interest piqued, Bull followed.


	2. Chapter 2

They walked straight to her quarters, and Bull couldn’t quite believe it. He hadn’t warned her, riding the bull was no small feat, she had no _idea_. Ophelia sat heavily on the edge of her bed, pulling her shoes off with her feet before offering Bull a seat, too. “I would offer the chair, but somehow I don’t think that ass of yours will fit.” Bull chuckled at her comment, and sat down on the bed next to her, leaving some room between them, he could see her eyelids were heavy, but she kept them open, as wide as she could probably manage.

“So… why are we here?” Bull asked, not wanting to presume.

“To explain my _situation_ , I have to talk about my sex life, and I’ll be damned if I talk about it in a room filled with strangers. Oh, you thought we were going to- Soon, I have to mentally prepare myself for _that_ ,” She said, nodding towards his crotch. _This girl is **good**_ , Bull thought. “So, Zev and I, we love each other, right? But we also love sex, a lot, and we don’t see each other a great deal, so we agreed that sex could be sought out if we desired it, for pleasure, nothing more. We know that we will always return to each other,”

“That’s a practical attitude, I like this guy,”

“Oh, and he would like you too, I can tell,” Ophelia smiled wickedly, lustfully, as she spoke. “It’s too bad he isn’t here, really, this would be fun for the three of us.”

“I _really_ like this guy.” Bull replied, feeling his body tensing slightly.

“Because he enjoys the company of men and women? Then you’ll like me even more,” She giggled, not noticing Bull moving over, closing the gap between them, only noticing the heat radiating off his body. She closed her eyes and leaned into his torso, next to his body heat, she felt cold, almost unnaturally. He put an arm around her, she didn’t seem to mind.

“So you appreciate women too, then?”

“I do a whole lot more than just appreciate them.”

“I _knew_ there was too much affection in the way you were looking at that elf.”

“You mean Luciana? Yes, we’ve known each other almost twenty years now, scary when you think about it, I’m not even thirty. We were lovers, back in the Ferelden Circle, before the world went completely to shit, but then she left, and it _did_ go to shit, for me anyway. She left, I was accused of helping a blood mage, conscripted to the Grey Wardens and then thrown into the blight, became a blood mage and resented myself for it, resented myself for a lot of things really. Life got better with Zev, he helped me more than I would ever care to admit. You see, before I met him, I’d only ever had sex with Luciana, and Cullen once, _that_ was funny. Awkward, but funny. I was so inexperienced, you know? And he wasn’t, he grew up in a whorehouse, and he took no shame in explaining _precisely_ how to pleasure a man, top to bottom. If I do say so myself, I’m a good lay. A fucking fantastic lay.” Her words spilt out, almost uncontrollably, all the while her eyes still closed.

“I’m looking forward to it, but I must warn you, as much as you think you know what you’re in for, you really don’t know what you’re in for.” Bull said, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her arm. His words fell on empty ears, for he heard the soft breaths that came with slumber, Ophelia had fallen asleep on him. He chuckled before gently picking her up and placing her flat on her bed. Behind him he heard the sound of metal, something small, clattering to the floor. He looked down and saw a ring with a small red stone the colour of blood set in the middle, he could see the magic within it, swirling ever so slightly, he placed it on her bedside table. He debated staying to keep an eye on her, and decided against it, instead vowing to return early in the morning, knowing that her head would be pounding more than usual. He would ask Stitches for poultice, or potion, he could never remember which, that was given to his Chargers when they’d been drinking heavily and had a job the next day, which happened to be most days. He also wanted to see if Ophelia remembered any of their conversation, to make sure they were on the same page, the Bull was not one to take advantage of those who had shown interest in him.

Bull returned the next day, having fallen asleep immediately after collapsing on his bed. The new sun was still rising in the sky as he made his way to Ophelia’s room, it was still early. He had retrieved the _potion_ from a reluctant Stitches, who told Bull that she could, in fact, drink it, unlike the poultices that Bull kept drinking, regardless of the countless times he had been told not to.

He opened the door and walked through, turning his head slightly so his horns didn’t catch on the sides. He looked across at her bed, expecting to find her sleeping figure, still dead to the world. But she wasn’t there. Bull’s first instinct wasn’t to panic, but he was concerned, to say the least. Before he could move any further from the doorway, he heard the sounds of vomiting emanating from the door the other side of the room, her bathroom, his concern washed away, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. However, the concern returned when she emerged through the doorway, her legs shaking, hands trembling. At some point in the night she had ditched her outfit, and was stood in her smallclothes, in any other instance he would have taken pleasure from the sight, but she had a sheen across her body, she was drenched in sweat. Confusion swept over Bull, was this _really_ just a reaction to the drink? He looked at her face, the natural paleness had shifted into a sickly pallor,

“Where the fuck is it?” She asked herself, the frustration and panic clear in her voice, she took one step, her legs barely holding herself upright. She was close enough to the bed to fall onto it, sitting down on the edge. “I was wearing it yesterday; did I drop it? I can’t have lost it, I _can’t_. It’s a ring, for fuck sake! I would have noticed-” Her words cut off, Bull moved towards the bedside table, where he had placed a ring last night, Ophelia can’t have looked all that hard, but given her state of mind it didn’t really surprise him. He picked the ring up, looking miniscule in the large pads of his fingers, he began to walk round the other side of the bed, surprised that Ophelia still hadn’t noticed his presence in the room, he wasn’t exactly easy to miss. As he turned around the other side of the bed, he saw the Ophelia was now holding a small knife in her right hand, and had a welling red line on her left forearm.

“Katoh! What are you doing?” Bull exclaimed, his voice booming loudly, Ophelia jumped, a small noise of surprise escaping her mouth as she did, the knife clattered to the ground. “The ring, I have the ring, it fell off last night when you fell asleep, I put it on the bedside table.” He continued, thrusting his arm forward, extending the ring so it was within her grasp. A shaky hand reached out and took it gently from his fingers, her slender ones dwarfed by his own. She slipped it back on the middle finger of her left hand, after she did, the red line began to disappear from her arm, the only evidence left a small red droplet that had begun to make its way towards the ground. She wiped the droplet off with her thumb, before then wiping that on the side of the dark bed linen. “What was that for?”

“Despite Varric giving me the nickname the Maleficar, I don’t like to use blood magic, never have. The ring, it acts as a ward. You see, blood magic drains you if it isn’t used and put into practice, and as I don’t, it weakens me. The only way to prevent it is by using the magic, and I only use a minor spell when necessary, when the weakness becomes too much. This ring prevents me from needing to use it, and normally when I take it off there aren’t any negative effects, but with the Calling, I don’t know. It’s different.” She spoke, offering an explanation, and wiping some of the sweat from her forehead.

“Wouldn’t it be better to put the magic into an earring? You have only have one, and you know there’s no chance of it falling out.” Bull suggested.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” She replied, smiling weakly. “These aren’t easy to enchant, but I think it’ll be worth it.” She closed her eyes, pressing two fingers to her temple and rubbing slightly.

“Oh! Right, I brought you this.” He said, holding out the potion from Stitches, “It should help with the headache.”

“Thank you. You keep doing things for me, I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I can think of a few ways,” He said, a devious smirk spreading across his lips. Ophelia’s cheeks warmed, the colour returning to them at Bull’s remark. “So you remember our conversation last night then?” She nodded sheepishly.

“Are you travelling with the Inquisitor today?” She asked quietly.

“No, not today.”

“Would you mind staying? I don’t feel like being alone right now.” Her gaze was directed at her feet, her pride was nowhere to be seen right now, Bull could tell.

“It would be a pleasure, my lady.” His reply assured her, her gaze once more returning to his face, this time accompanied with a wide smile.

They didn’t leave the room all day. They talked for hours, Ophelia beginning to feel in better health. If she closed her eyes, it was almost as if Zev was there, too. _Zev really will love him_ , she thought contentedly. _He really will_.


	3. Chapter 3

Ophelia returned to her quarters, it had been a long day. In an effort to feel more useful while at Skyhold, she had taken it upon herself to help the injured, it was cruel of her _not_ to help them, she was a spirit healer, after all. It appeared that none of the other mages had any proficiency in healing, or at least not to the level that Ophelia was, so much of the work was left to her. She was glad to help people, yes, but it was draining, of course it was, especially when she could _feel_ the distrust of some of those around her as she was aided by spirits in her work. It was tiring to say the least.

It had been a few days since she had really spoken to Bull, she wouldn’t admit that she had been avoiding him, but in truth she had, with what time she’d had to herself anyway. She’d completely embarrassed herself in front of him, a spy for the qunari, a _spy_. And her magic was unusual, not simply because she was a maleficar, her quiet proficiency in the field was astounding, even Dorian had noticed. She was used to being weak in front of people, almost every time she had seen Zevran after dark she had been weak, and the thought that all her work, her struggle over the past ten years had been for nothing pained her.

She opened the door to her room, to find the Iron Bull sat on her bed. When the initial surprise subsided, her expression changed to confusion.

“Bull?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. I know that you’ve been working, the way you help these people, it’s fascinating to watch, you know. But yeah, avoiding me. Why?”

“I- I haven’t been avoiding you.” Her tone was unconvincing, the look on Bull’s face told her exactly that. She let out a small huff before continuing, “I’ve been thinking too much.” Was all she said. She _knew_ she fell in love too easily, so much so she was never sure she could call it love. Being with Bull reminded her so much of being back with Zev, the man she _loved_ , and she knew she could call that love. So what exactly _did_ she feel for the Iron Bull? It was affection for sure, but she _shouldn’t_ , she loved Zevran. Nothing more, nothing less. She hadn’t even slept with the man yet, and here she was one step away from fawning over him. She couldn’t believe herself, _this is ridiculous_ , she thought. “I needed time to think, about… well- “

“Riding the bull.” Bull continued, helping her finish the sentence she was clearly reluctant to say aloud. Ophelia blushed, she spent far too much time blushing around him, but she nodded in agreement. Bull let out a throaty chuckle, “I don’t blame you, riding the bull is no small feat.” He added, entertaining himself with the innuendo.

“I suppose you’re right. Yes, you see my… concern isn’t the right word, but right now it’s the only one that comes to mind. You see, I haven’t… in a while.”

“For someone who claims to be a ‘fucking good lay’, you sure are shy when it comes to talking about sex.” The Bull replied, the entertained grin on his face growing at the mage’s bashfulness.

“That’s Ferelden for you, stiff upper lips and prudishness, especially amongst noble families.”

“Noble? You’re nobility? This keeps getting better and better.”

“Well,” She started, before making a small noise of disgust, “why does everything have to be _complicated_. Technically, yes, I am from a noble house, the name Amell is a well-respected one. But I am never going to inherit. I’m a mage, and I’m almost certain a bastard one at that, my father never did like me very much. After being taken away from the Circle, I saw very little of my family. Where he is now, where my siblings are now, I don’t know, and honestly I don’t think I’ll ever know.”

“That must have been difficult, for what it’s worth I’m sorry. Under the Qun, families aren’t a thing, you’re simply raised. But if you’re a bastard, as you believe, who is your real father?”

“A Fereldan noble, how he and my mother met is a mystery to me, we’re from the Free Marches, after all. But Leliana found out for me, how she does it, I’ll never know.”

“So still nobility, just a bastard kinda nobility.” Bull remarked.

“Yes, but these days it doesn’t hold you back much, look at Alistair. On the throne despite being Maric’s bastard.” She replied with a slight shrug. “But anyway, family is a dire and boring subject for me, and it’s off topic, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed, my _lady_.”

“Please don’t,” Ophelia’s face twisted into a grimace, uncomfortable with both the notion and title.

“What else would I call you?”

“My name? I do have one, you know, doesn’t have an article in front of it but it serves its purpose, _Bull_.”

“You certainly are something fierce, aren’t you?”

“That is a new one on me,” She said with a laugh. “Never have I been called fierce. Meek, yes, shy, yes. Fierceness is not my nature.”

“Then you’ll be easier to order around,” Bull said quietly, a playful smirk on his lips.

“What?”

“Not important, not now anyway. I have an idea. If you’re concerned about moving too quickly, or needing time for certain _preparations_ , how ‘bout I give you a massage? You look tense.” Bull spoke, his voice softening as the sentence continued.

“I can go with a massage,” Ophelia said agreeably, her tone light.

“Good,” Bull smiled at her, “Just so you know, it works a whole lot better with your clothes off.” Ophelia raised her eyebrow at his remark, but her countenance betrayed to Bull that she wasn’t completely against the idea. The look in her eyes, the pull of her mouth far too soft to indicate that the idea was off the table. He watched patiently as she began to remove her clothing, despite the common attire of mages being robes, Ophelia was quite clearly not a fan of them, neither when travelling or domestically. Her clothes were comparable to the Inquisitors, in substance over style. Bull pushed the thoughts aside, there was a beautiful woman undressing in front of him and he was considering her tailoring choices over her body, in this instance he regretted Dorian’s influence over him.

She removed her shirt, carefully considering each button as she did before letting it drop to the floor. Bull disguised the hunger in his gaze, that lingered over her breasts, letting the sensation quickly move through him before containing it. As much as he wished to strip her of all clothing, he would do as he had suggested. A massage. He would not push her, regardless of his own wants, he was not one to take advantage, to be too dominant, not without permission anyway. Her reluctance to remove her trousers was spread across her body language, clear as day to an agent of Ben-Hassrath, though he couldn’t understand her hesitation, not until they came off. Her thighs were littered with scars, most of them pale, a few of the bigger ones a bruised purple, some of them looked as if they could compete with Bull’s own scars in terms of the damage they’d done. Bull couldn’t help but wince, they looked like they would’ve been painful, these looked self-inflicted, though he couldn’t quite work out why. They could be an indicator of the use of blood magic, but she wouldn’t need to cut _that_ deep, surely?

He must have been staring for some time, as he heard a small, cynical laugh from Ophelia.

“I get that a lot.” She said, her voice tinged with bitterness, regret even. “Life was hard, this was how I dealt with it, I don’t need pity, not anymore. Just the massage, okay?” Her tone was defensive, despite the age of the scars, the mental injury left behind was still quite fresh, Bull didn’t press her, now wasn’t the time for it. Bull pushed the interrogating thoughts aside once more, allowing him to focus solely on her, all of her. For a human woman, she was tall, obviously nowhere near the size or stature of any qunari, but her long legs gave her an air of elegance as she walked towards the bed, and lay on her front, her cheek resting on her folded arms.   
Bull removed his boots, pulling them off with haste, and without really considering his laces all that much, before climbing onto the bed and straddling Ophelia’s legs. He made sure his bodyweight was above hers, hovering over her slightly, otherwise he would crush her with his own weight. He settled over her, making sure that he was comfortable, and that she was comfortable, too. He felt her shuffle slightly between his legs, adjusting her position slightly before settling, her eyes now closed.

He began working his thumbs into the muscles, despite her lithe appearance, she was strong, her muscles well defined. As he continued to work, easing the tension in her shoulders, he considered that she had been travelling for three years, searching for a cure for the Calling. Given the battlemage attire she had draped over the chair in the corner, still flecked with blood and grime, her staff was clearly still in use, meaning the presence of muscles made sense. His hands ran across her back, making gentle and smooth work of the knots that had formed. He heard small noises of contentment pass her lips, her breathing heavier, deeper as she relaxed further. “How are you so good at this?” Ophelia asked, the lethargy in her voice clear. “Someone who’s hands could very well crush my skull shouldn’t be that gentle.” Bull couldn’t help but let out a chuckle,

“Ben-Hassrath training, it’s all about knowing what people need.”

“What, so the top agents under the Qun just go around giving each other massages?”

“Not quite like that, but Ben-Hassrath agents carry a lot of tension, it’s a tense job, you know? Sometimes you just need to relax.”

“That’s fair.” Ophelia murmured, “Thank you Bull. This, wasn’t necessary but, thank you.”

“And pass up the opportunity to give a massage to a beautiful woman? _And_ see her in her underwear? The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Ulterior motives, you’re more open than Zev was, I suppose.” Ophelia remarked. “Though he did preface his massage offer with telling me he learnt his skills in an Antivan whorehouse. So, I guess I saw it coming, really.” She continued, making an attempt at a shrug, but the energy required right seemed too much to her, plus Bull was doing a damn good job.

“Are you really that unaware of sexual advances? Damn, lady, how?”

“By never assuming. I assumed Cullen wanted to sleep with me, we did once, but he ran away the second time. Traumatising to say the least.”

“Shit, you mentioned that the other day, when you were drunk. Cullen? I find that hard to believe.”

“The chantry boy broke the rules once, and only once. Hence the running away I guess, but I’d rather not talk about him, not right now.”

“Gotcha. Would you mind if I undid this?” He asked, hands moving to the band of her bra.

“As long as you don’t insist I turn over.” She responded, her voice still low and languorous, her words dictated a sternness, yet she wasn’t sure if he actually asked, that she would say no. Either way, he didn’t press the matter, he simply complied, undoing the clasp, allowing the two sides to slip off her back. His massage continued further down her back, covering the area previously covered by the bra, as his fingers continued to work at the tight spots along her back, she let out a small moan, her back arching into the bed. Bull smiled to himself, he was clearly doing something right.

When Bull felt he had worked out as much tension from her body as he could, he swung his leg over her and onto the floor, removing the second away swiftly after. Knowing that moving silently wasn’t an option for him in trying not to disturb her, so he simply moved with speed, trying to remove his presence as fast as he could, instead. At this point, Ophelia was almost asleep, teetering on the edge of her dreams, he grabbed hold of the throw at the end of her bed, and spread the blanket over her. She shifted onto her side, eyes still closed, and murmured a word of thanks not to Bull, but to Zevran, her lover. It was probably a slip of the tongue, given her earlier admission of Zevran’s massage… skills, but some part of him couldn’t help but feel that her lover’s presence, or lack of it, was pressing on her, holding her back from _something_. _Maybe that’s what she’s been thinking over_ , he thought, as drawn to the woman as he was, as purely captivating as she was, her heart belonged to someone else, and was clearly having a more profound effect on her than she thought.

With this disheartening realisation, Bull left, closing the door quietly behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Ophelia’s new found ‘friendship’ with The Iron Bull had been noted by her friends, as well as those in the company of the Inquisition, even Athene who spent most of her time at Leliana’s side could see that _something_ was going on. The Dalish elf asked plainly about their relationship, no innuendo or crude remarks, she was grateful for her straight forward nature in this instance. She knew Emilia would ask probing questions, attempting to evaluate the situation like the concerned mother she was, and Luciana would tease her mercilessly for it. She had even shared jokes with Bull himself about how coy and shy she was, she just hoped that she didn’t begin sharing stories from the bedroom with him, she hoped Luciana would spare her that much.

Now that Ophelia was at Skyhold, she could give Leliana any messages she wanted to be sent to Zevran. While Ophelia always knew his rough location when she had been travelling, Leliana being the spymaster meant it was now far easier for her messages to reach him. His visits in the past three years had been few and far between, he had been working just as much as she had, but his line of work often meant more travelling, not only for finding targets but also avoiding becoming one. The time they had together had been short, but it was more than what either Athene or Emilia had, she was grateful, but she missed him dearly. She made the fact very clear in her last letter to him, sent several days ago, she had already received a message from him since being at Skyhold, _he must be nearby then_ , she thought. Think about Zevran turned her thoughts back to The Iron Bull, the aches that plagued her body only yesterday had all but disappeared, the worst ones only just making their presence known. The resemblance in nature of the two men, it was uncanny. She didn’t want to seek Bull out immediately, the last thing she wanted to come across as was needy, or clingy, or any other terrible and overthought name she gave herself in any relationship whether friend or lover.

She walked out into the courtyard to try and find Emilia, she had become an advisor to the Inquisition since their arrival. But the queen would always make time to maintain her fighting skills, being a duelist required precision and speed, and therefore constant practice. Ophelia was always intrigued by the talent Emilia possessed, her lightning quick strikes were difficult to parry, and even harder to predict. As a mage, she was glad that she would never have to practice hand to hand combat with her, even had she been a rogue, she would lose. While she was watching Emilia practice, Bull had walked up behind her, she heard his heavy footfalls and felt her heart rate increase slightly.

“If she wasn’t the ruler of the kingdom, I’d ask her to join the Chargers.” Bull commented, watching Emilia whilst stood alongside Ophelia.

“Why thank you Bull,” Emilia replied breathlessly, wiping the sweat from her brow. “But I would not part from Alistair unless necessary, even if I wasn’t queen.” She admitted, sheathing her blades on her back.

“The queen of Ferelden has a soft spot, I never would have guessed.” Bull remarked, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t we all?” Emilia rose an eyebrow at Bull as she spoke, “Good day to you.” She finished, before bowing slightly and walking away, presumably to wash off the sweat that glistened across her body.

“How on earth Emilia makes sweating look _good_ , I will never know.” Ophelia spoke, now that the queen was out of earshot.

“I find it hard to believe that you wouldn’t look good in a post-sex glow.” Bull replied with a shrug, seeing Ophelia’s look of bewilderment at his comment made him laugh. Ophelia steeled her will to prepare herself for the comment she wanted to make, it wasn’t so much the nature of the comment, but the fact that she was going to say it out loud.

“Perhaps you can decide for yourself later.” She tried to make her words seem as nonchalant as possible, inspecting her nails as she spoke. She left a few moments before she decided to look back at Bull, and found a playful smile on his lips.

“That is a plan I can get on board with.” He took a step closer, his chin tilted further down to keep his gaze on hers. She bit her lip, and placed her hand on his, he turned his hand over so it was covering hers. “So, you really wanna do this?” He asked, she felt his breath graze her collarbones, a small shudder moved through her, and she nodded. Bull’s other hand moved behind her head, pulling her close enough to capture her lips with his, heat ran through his body as she pushed back against him quickly before pulling away, her face flushed, lips parted slightly. Her eyes flicked around quickly, and she relaxed when she saw no one was staring at the pair of them. Relieved, she tugged gently on Bull’s hand before letting go and walking away, Bull followed behind her.

The walk to Ophelia’s quarters was in silence, mostly because Ophelia stayed too far in front of Bull for them to talk without shouting. Bull easily could have caught up, but he from the tension in her shoulders, and her clenched fists at her side, he left her be, being as inconspicuous as a seven foot qunari agent could be.

When the Bull closed the door behind him, he heard Ophelia exhale, the tension leaving her body now that they were in private. Ophelia turned around to face Bull, and as she did she found him striding towards her, then pushing against her until her back was pressed against the wall. He took hold of her hands, pinning them above her head in one hand, the other flush against the wall next to her body, she gasped as her back hit the wall, her eyes looking up at him as her expression momentarily clouded with fear. “Last chance.” His breath was once again on her, the sensation building something within her, with a new-found confidence, she replied.

“A little slower, and a _lot_ harder.” Bull grinned, let go of her wrists and picked her up effortlessly, carrying her to the bed.

Bull had taken his time, and made sure Ophelia was comfortable, and to his surprise she coped better than he expected. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, she caught her breath, a beaming smile on her face as she pulled him back for another kiss. “That was the best sex I’ve had in a long time, and even then, no one has quite done… _that_. Thank you.” She said, lying down next to him, her head resting on his arm sprawled across the pillows. She yawned before talking again, “We should do this again.” Her eyes began to close,

“I’d like that, you know.” He started, his eyes looking down at her, he smiled to himself and continued, “I was right, you _do_ look good in a post-sex glow.” The pair laughed, and Ophelia curled into Bull’s side, he moved until he too was lying down in the bed. With the immediate lust subsided, looking at her gave a sensation that he had never felt, this wasn’t a woman he just wanted to sleep with, the feeling unnerved him, Qunari didn’t fall in love. So he told himself he wouldn’t.

*

Athene was in the yard, practicing her archery with Sera. The two often found themselves getting into arguments, Sera calling Athene a ‘Dalish shite’, and Athene calling Sera a ‘strange shem elf’. But the two seemed to get on well enough, as each of them sent arrows flying to their targets, becoming a competition of how many headshots each of them could land. When Luciana intervened and called it a draw, Sera still insisted that she won, before slapping Luciana on the backside and ran off cackling. Luciana chuckled to herself as she moved closer to Athene, she was about to ask her why she insisted on training with Sera, who _clearly_ annoyed her to some degree, when someone was escorted into the fortress. A face they both recognised but hadn’t seen for some time. A face that, as usual, wore a smug expression and strutted wherever he went.

“Ladies!” Zevran exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he walked over to the other two elves. “By cordial invitation of the Nightingale herself, I am here. Did you miss me? I bet you did. Now, where is mi _amor_ to be found, do either of you know?”

“She was heading towards her quarters, last time I saw.” Athene replied coolly, “It is good to see you, Zevran.”

 Luciana swallowed, she knew that Ophelia wasn’t doing anything _wrong_ per se, Luciana knew the boundaries of Ophelia’s relationship and she was well within them going after The Iron Bull. But she imagined that it would be awkward for everyone involved if they were in some kind of compromising situation, and so she gave a small prayer to the Maker that they weren’t.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Zevran walked towards Skyhold’s main building, it was the general area that Athene had gestured in, so beyond the building itself, he was unaware of where he was supposed to go. Before his aimless wandering began to attract suspicion, he clocked another familiar face, one that he had corresponded with regularly, usually over Ophelia’s whereabouts, and most recently about coming to Skyhold. He strode confidently over to the cloaked Orlesian woman

“Leliana, how wonderful to see you again, my dear.” He spoke, his arms thrown wide again as he stepped closer to her.

“Zevran, it is good to see you, too. I hope your journey was easy, these are dangerous times.” She replied, her voice soft as she looked at her long-time friend.

“I encountered no demons or abominations, bandits, yes. But they are not such difficult foes. They lack a certain… finesse. It almost takes the fun out of it!”

“Of course _you_ would see it that way, Zevran.” Leliana replied with a small chuckle.

“Naturally, dear lady. Someone has to try and see the brighter side amongst all this gloom.” He started, “Now, as I’m here, I have something to ask of you. Your lovely partner gave me vague directions as to the whereabouts of mi amor, I was wondering if you could possibly be more specific.” Leliana smiled in response to his request,

“Indeed, Athene isn’t always the best at giving directions, but as for Ophelia, her quarters are through that corridor, the first on the left. I saw her walking in that direction a while ago, and haven’t seen her leave since, so I’d assume she’s still in there.”

“Thank you, Leliana, we will talk more later.” His words were gentle and swift, he bowed quickly in Leliana’s direction, before making his way towards Ophelia’s quarters. He felt his heart began to beat faster in his chest, thumping heavily against his rib cage, had someone told him ten years ago that someone would make him feel this way, he would have laughed in their face. Yet he had fallen in love, when he didn’t think love was meant, or even _possible_ , for him, affection was a weakness. That’s what he’d been told, at least. She’d been so fragile when they first met, he’d been afraid to break her, and she’d been afraid to love. But together they grew, they found their stride and became better people because of each other, and now Zevran couldn’t imagine his life without her.

He had considered proposing, on more than one occasion, but his past taunted him, marriage ment confinement, and as much as he wanted to please Ophelia, he didn’t think he could ever utter the words. He expressed his concerns to her, the shame washing over him, but Ophelia did not care, they had each other, and that was enough. The nature of their relationship was a peculiar one, it allowed them to attend to their sexual wants without fear of infidelity. They knew their boundaries, and their trust ran deep, he couldn’t imagine anything separating them, not even the distance between them, as difficult as it was.

He almost felt his hands _shake_. _She truly does hold my heart, to make me react like this_ , he thought to himself. In no other situation had his hands trembled, not on his first job with the Crows, not the first time someone tried to take his life, but because of the woman he loved.

But to see her again.

He approached the wooden door, giving an initial, gentle knock. When nobody answered he knocked again, he was met once again with silence, concern grew over him, he straightened his stance before swinging open the door. He’d found her collapsed on the floor of her tent numerous times during the Blight, when she was still learning to control her magic. Whilst she had it under control now, he knew the Calling was weighing on her, affecting her power, his concern greatened as he walked through the open door. His eyes began to scan over the room, stopping in their tracks when they encountered the hulking, shirtless, grey skinned qunari sat up in the large bed at the centre of the room. Zevran cast his gaze over the qunari’s countenance, noting the eyepatch and the scars protruding underneath. His gaze was severe, and somewhat confused, as he looked back at Zevran, but something else mixed into his expression, something almost playful.

“Are you lost?” The qunari spoke, his voice deep and bellowing, before Zevran replied, he glanced across the rest of the room, he couldn’t see Ophelia, only the qunari and his large horns. The trembling in his hands had subsided some as his brand of ‘professional flirting’ took over,

“Ah, you see, I was told that the person I’m looking for was in this room, a mere accident on my part. Though a happy one, given the handsome man I see before me,” Zevran said, his tone light, playful. The qunari chuckled,

“You’re a pretty elf, I’ll give you that. Tall, too.” He remarked, “But who is it that you’re looking for? Maybe I can help.” Zevran saw a shape move next to the qunari, a figure shifting and rolling over next to him. _Clearly I’m not the only one who sees the attraction_ , Zevran thought, and in that time the figure began to sit up, revealing a head of pale auburn hair, his heart clenched, it _was_ her.

“Zev? Is that you?” Ophelia asked, confusion thick in her voice as she sat up sharply next to the qunari, almost hitting her head on his horns. The blanket fell away from her, exposing her naked torso, at this Zevran shut the door behind him, his gaze flicking between her face and body. He remained silent, though he’d had lovers in the time they’d been apart, the sight of his lover sent shivers through his body, his nerves tingling at the sheer _thought_ of what he would do to her.

A beaming smile broke across Ophelia’s face, her face lit up as the realisation cascaded over her, she ripped the blanket off herself, leapt out of the bed and charged at Zevran. Her arms wrapped around him, and his arms closed around her, supporting her as he felt her knees begin to give way. He closed his eyes, his head pressed into the crook of her neck, his mind wandered slightly as he breathed in her scent, he rewarded himself on his decision to wear clothing instead of armour. He felt dampness on his shoulder, she was crying, she looked up at him, eyes glistening, “I can’t believe you’re here, I-“ She broke off, awestruck at his presence.

“I missed you, bella.” He said quietly, he leant down to kiss her, their lips met, and it felt like _home_. Zevran had forgotten the about the qunari man present in the room, right now, he didn’t matter. He was with his love, his _first_ love, again, and that was all he cared about. Ophelia pulled away from the kiss, allowing herself time to admire the face of the man she loved, looking over every line, every blemish. As she looked over his features, he felt himself begin to stir, he imagined bending her over and-

“I missed you, too, Zev.” Her voice shook, interrupting his thoughts, she kissed him again quickly before continuing. “This is the Iron Bull,” She began to turn, Zev loosened his hold, letting one arm fall to his side, the other remained around her shoulders as she faced the qunari.

“So, this is the Zevran I’ve heard so much about, only good things, I assure you.” Bull said, Ophelia flushed pink. “You were right, I think we’ll get on _great_.” His words were accompanied with a smirk, Ophelia wiped the tears from her eyes, surprisingly not feeling self-conscious as Bull raked his eyes over her body.

“This man is rather, _large_ , dear. I take it that you… well… _took_ it?” Zevran asked politely, Ophelia’s expression turned to one of mortification, Bull simply laughed.

“Ophelia, we’ll get on fucking fantastic.”


	6. Chapter 6

“So, I see that _neither_ of you are just pretty faces!” Bull puffed, placing his hand behind his head as Ophelia and Zevran squeezed themselves on to the bed next to him. The pair of them were panting, their bodies glistening with sweat, smiles wide across their faces.

“I am a man of many talents,” Zevran replied, brushing the hair away from his face, and though there was little room for the three of them to manoeuvre on the bed, he placed his arm around Ophelia’s slight shoulders.

“That may be, but this is the talent I’m interested in,” Bull chuckled.

“Should I leave? I can feel the sexual tension passing over me,” Ophelia quipped, enjoying the heat radiating from the men either side of her.

“And remove the person, the most beautiful person I ever laid eyes on might I add, who brought this beautiful, _hot_ union to reality? Oh bella, what kind of men would we be?” Zevran’s words were accompanied with a pout, Ophelia grinned in reply, before kissing him gently on the lips.

“As much as I’d love to stay, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve gotta go. The boss is coming with me to make a deal with the qunari, the Chargers are coming too.” Bull murmured, moving his hand back from behind his head and swinging his legs off the bed in one lumbering motion. The bed creaked as Bull shifted his weight off the wooden frame, Ophelia shuffled over into the space left behind by Bull, Zevran following suit next to her.

“I hope it goes well, Bull.” Ophelia said sweetly, Bull stood up, allowing the pair to admire the naked ass that now greeted them. “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer? Stood _just_ there?” She bit her lip, grazing her eyes over Bull’s naked form.

“I’m sure that would entertain you a great deal, but I’m sure you _lovebirds_ will find a way to keep yourselves occupied.” Bull retorted, his tongue stalling slightly as he acknowledged the status of their relationship, it was a bitter pill to swallow. He was going to have the Inquisitor hit him with a stick again, what he was beginning to feel for Ophelia couldn’t come to fruition. It couldn’t. Frustration coursed through him, meaning he made a concerted effort to put his clothes back on with as much speed as possible, before the two people in the bed started acting like a couple again. It was a small mercy that they showed no favouritism when fucking another person. He heard the sounds of kissing from behind him, his jaw clenched and a small shudder went through him. He yanked on his boots before marching out of the room, the door slamming loudly behind him, accompanied with a splintering sound.

“I expect you’re going to pay for that!” Josephine gasped, stopping in her tracks to glare disapprovingly at the qunari.

“Sorry,” He shrugged before walking away, leaving Josephine talking frantically to herself in Antivan, exasperation clear in her voice despite Bull’s lack of knowledge of the language. He continued walking, headed towards the Chargers to inform them of their mission later. Krem asked Bull if he was alright, his sharp, snapped reply made Krem fall silent, but also gave him the answer he’d suspected.

The usual banter that went back and forth between those in the Chargers was not to be heard on their return to the Storm Coast to meet with the dreadnought. Every one of them knew that something wasn’t right with their boss, but his earlier outburst meant that none of them wanted to broach the subject. Even the Inquisitor, who had spoken to Bull only about the mission at hand, could sense anger beneath his brooding exterior, rolling off him in waves. She sensed that at some point in the near future he would request to be hit repeatedly with a stick to ‘work through’ his frustrations.

* * *

 

As desperate as Ophelia was to spend time with Zevran, after spending too long apart from each other, she had to help heal the injured, she couldn’t just stand by when people _needed_ her. Zevran paid her occasional visits, passing and fleeting touches, a shoulder, hand, each time he passed her. But he spent most of his time with Leliana, aiding her in making contacts and sending scouts across Ferelden and Orlais, even into Antiva. The arrangement was mutually beneficial, Zevran gained new targets for his freelance business, and Leliana had her problems dealt with swiftly and silently.

However, every time he and Ophelia had a spare moment to themselves, to steal a quick kiss, he couldn’t help but feel as if she was more… distant. It was as if some unknown force had affected their relationship, had begun to carve a chasm between the two of them, and he knew if that happened, his heart would break.

The days went on, and they saw less and less of each other, he would almost say that she was _avoiding_ him. He knew that she was one to hide and deny her problems rather than face them, but they had always agreed on a mutual honesty, and Ophelia’s behaviour made Zevran sick to his stomach. She was hiding something, but what he couldn’t begin to guess. Even as they made love she seemed more distant, more… fragile, as if she would break in his hands if he handled her too roughly. He searched in her eyes, to find any hint of what was troubling her, to see if he could identify _anything_ that was making her act this way, but all he saw was an overwhelming anguish.

At first he waited, to see if she would willingly open up to him about what was gnawing away at her, but as the days passed and he was still left without an answer, he felt that he had to ask, before it ate away at him, too.

The night had drawn in, the stars and moon bathing the keep in an elegant and beautiful, pale light. Ophelia had been working tirelessly, only when the light had leeched out of the day, making her work impossible, did she stop. Zevran slowly approached her, the light that cascaded over her set his bones alight, he loved her, and he would do anything to get to the bottom of her problem, even if-   
even if it meant letting her go, as much as he wished, _prayed_ , that it wouldn’t come to that. The closer he got to her, the faster his heart began to race, his brain ran through a multitude of awful scenarios, he was terrified.

She looked up at him, giving a bashful and appeasing smile as he drew near. In any other scenario, he would have been able to control his nerves, but around her, especially lately, he simply couldn’t. Falling in love had made him weak, at least that’s what he used to believe, now he lived by the philosophy that she had made him a better man, and for that he was eternally grateful. Yet as grateful as he was, in this instance he wished he could throw aside all feeling, all fear, and be _prepared_ for what could happen next.

“Ophelia, what’s on your mind?” His voice quivered slightly as he asked his question, her first response was a cynical sounding huff of laughter.

“It seems to be full of scorpions. I can barely think straight anymore, Zev.” Her words almost mewled, she took his hand before walking up towards the battlements. Her hand against his felt a relief, the gesture felt intimate, and not forced, as some of her previous ones had been. As relieved as he was to hold her hand in his, the coldness of her touch was a shock that sent a shiver through his body, and set his nerves tingling. He followed quietly as she led him to a secluded and scenic part of Skyhold, looking out into the countryside surrounding the keep, the moonlight seemed to set the forest aglow, the snow brightening to an almost blinding white. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me, you look scared. _You_ of all people. I, I don’t quite understand why, but you have nothing to fear, not from me. _Never,_ from me.” She continued, her words provided a small comfort to Zevran, easing the tension that had seized control of his body a little, though he sensed she had more to say. “I want to be honest with you, that’s what we _do_ , right?” Her words were clouded with uncertainty, “But what I want to say, what I _feel_ , is, well, I don’t know,” She sighed, her frustration building. “I love you, nothing has or will change that. What I feel probably isn’t even real, I’m good at confusing myself, and I’m _great_ at overthinking.” She was beginning to ramble. “It’s about Bull. I- I’m not sure, not by a long shot but, whenever I think about him, or I’m near him, I get the same feeling I did ten years ago whenever I was around you, and I don’t _understand_. I love you, that’s all that should matter, that’s all that DOES matter! I just, it’s something, and it’s been making me feel awful, Zev, I’m sorry.” Her last words sought forgiveness, her expression pained, tears threatened to spill over her eyes and down her cheeks, he could see she was fighting it.

As strange as the confession first appeared, he understood her dilemma. Before meeting Ophelia, he had no ties to anyone, he took pleasure where he could, and expected nothing more, but she had changed everything. Commitment was daunting, yet she made it seem less scary, and despite their exclusivity, the arrangement between the two of them could lead to other affections, especially on Ophelia’s part. She was the one who had grown up a hopeless romantic, the one who had never denied what she felt, the one who had never been told that what they felt was wrong. A part of Zevran felt that it was always destined to happen, and here they were. “The way he treated me, and acted around me, it reminded me so much of you, and I missed you so much I-“ She didn’t seem to be able to finish her thought, there were too many racing through her head.

“It’s alright, Ophelia, I understand. You have so much love to give, so much love you want to give, it wouldn’t be like you if you kept it to yourself.”

“But it’s not right, it’s not fair!” She exclaimed, squeezing her hand as the frustration filtered through her body.

“Is that not for me to decide, my love? Though I do not know him well, if at all, truly, he seems nice, and if he is like me as you say he is then we should get on wonderfully. You know how much I love myself.” His words brought out a small chuckle from Ophelia, he smiled to himself as their purpose worked. “In an ideal world, what would you like to see happen?” He watched her expression changed into one of fear and confusion,

“I don’t know, Zev. What kind of question is that? I’m not going to just cast you aside for someone like you, we’ve been together _ten years_ , I can’t lose you.”

“I’m simply asking for your take on things, it’s clearly been preying on your mind for some time, and so you must have deliberated some decision. I’m simply saying that I may be more open minded than you give me credit for, I do not have the same, prudish tendencies that you Fereldans seem to hold on to. All except you, of course, bella.” He closed his sentence with a wink, letting her know that his words were not meant as an insult, simply a passing joke on the stiff upper lip that seemed to pervade the entire kingdom. This seemed to take Ophelia aback, as her response was delayed a great deal,

“Well, we could… both get to know him better? I, I think the three of us, it could be good.” She sounded sheepish, more like the girl he met ten years ago. He kissed her on the forehead gently,

“Then we must let the Iron Bull hear the wonderful news when he returns.”

“Wonderful?”

“Ophelia, have you _seen_ us? Bull is a lucky man to be privy to such an invitation. Honestly, he’d be mad to say no!”

“Your optimism never ceases to amaze me.”

“And _you_ never cease to amaze _me,_ dear Ophelia.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a particularly short chapter, but I think it sits better on its own than followed quickly by the resolution. Way to make angst more angsty, right?

The Inquisitor’s company, along with the Chargers, returned some days later, all looking drained and weary, but none more so than the Iron Bull. The deal with the qunari had gone sour, he had chosen his Chargers over the dreadnought, the Inquisitor told him the decision was the right one, but he didn’t see either of the decisions as being _right_ , they both had their downfalls. The Chargers, glad to be back with their lives, insisted on heading to the tavern to celebrate by breaking open one of the casks, though Bull wasn’t entirely sure that gruff dwarven bartender would allow them to. Krem asked his boss to join them, Bull obliged his invitation, despite feeling in a less than sociable mood, but to keep the team’s morale high, he joined them.

Sat in his usual spot, Bull was able to see the door and all those that entered and left through it. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but it certainly was a convenient position to be in, though less so now that he was no longer Ben-Hassrath, or under the Qun for that matter. Remembering the fact shrouded him in a sadness, so he drank.

An hour or more passed, Bull hadn’t been keeping track of time, and he certainly wasn’t about to start, when he saw a familiar redhead walk through the door. The shallow hole of self-pity he’d been stood in disappeared immediately at the sight of her, and instead he began to fill with self-loathing. He cursed himself, the one woman he could never have, he had fallen for. Her eyes searched around the tavern, and when they landed on him, her face lit up, a smile spreading across her face, and it _hurt_ to look at. She walked over to him, while he finished his drink in one gulp, she was simultaneously the first and last person he wanted to see.

The Chargers offered her a seat next to Bull, and a mug of whatever was in the cask they cracked open, which she gratefully took.

“You’re back!” She said to the group, “I trust it went well?” The Chargers shot glances at one another before Krem replied.

“Without chief over there, we wouldn’t be here to answer that, so in a sense, yeah, it went well.” They all raised their mugs, giving cheers to Bull before draining them clean, and keeping themselves occupied with refilling them. Ophelia’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as she thought over Krem’s statement, she looked over at Bull, but she couldn’t catch his attention, or he simply refused to look. She gently placed a hand on his in an attempt to draw him to look at her, but he snatched it away violently, her hand retracted, eyes widened with fear before filling with sadness. Had she done something? Bull let out a grunt of frustration before standing up abruptly and leaving the tavern, confusion and sorrow washed over Ophelia. Distraught, she followed after him.

“Bull? Bull!” She shouted, jogging to catch up with the long strides he was making away from her. He clenched his jaw and stopped dead in his tracks, causing Ophelia to nearly slam into his hulking form. He turned sharply to face her,

“Did you think that maybe I left because I didn’t want to see you?” He snapped at her, grabbing one of her wrists, the touch of her skin against his setting his senses on fire, and angering him further. His eyes were dark as he looked down at her, she could feel his breath heavy on her face,

“Bull, you’re hurting me.” She winced as she uttered the words, and as soon as she did, the crushing sensation surrounding her forearm disappeared. She rubbed her arm where the remnants of pain remained, her arm already reddening.

“I’m so sorry Ophelia, I _never_ -“ He began, though looking at the fear in her eyes, he could tell he wasn’t going to get through to her.

“No,” She began, tears sliding into the corners of her eyes, “You’re right, you didn’t want to see me. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way, if that’s what you want.” Though the end of her sentence was phrased like a question, she gave no time for Bull to reply, she simply left.

Even more furious with himself, Bull walked up to the wall of the battlements outside the tavern and put all force behind his right arm until his fist collided with the wall, leaving a circular crack in the bricks, bits of the grey stone falling to the floor. He brushed bits of the stone from his knuckles, smearing the blood that was now there onto the pads of his fingers.

“Shit, fucking _shit_.” He hissed, before cursing wildly in qunlat. He was going to have to talk to Stitches, but the only thing Bull cared about in that moment was getting blindly drunk to try and forget what he’d done, how he’d treated someone he cared about, and that cared about him in return. But as much as he consumed, out drinking every other one of the Chargers, even in the numbness that followed as he sat in the tavern, long after the others had gone to bed, he still remembered. To the end of his days, he remembered it, burned in his brain as the single worst day in his memory.


	8. Chapter 8

Ophelia was grateful of the darkening sky as she hurried back to her room, the lack of light outside made her tears easier to disguise, and as soon as she was inside, she tilted her head downwards, letting her hair fall around her face. Despite how recent the episode with Bull had been, her memory already began to lapse and falter over the details, it was the slight throbbing pain in her arm that reminded her vaguely. _What **had** happened? _ She asked herself, she turned her brain back to the memory, desperately trying to put the events in order, or even remember what she _said_ to him, but there was nothing. His words though, burned into her skull,

_“I didn’t want to see you.”_

That’s what he had said, right? Ophelia told herself that was the case, regardless. The invasive thoughts began to press in on her, Bull _hated_ her, he _despised_ her, he wanted nothing to do with her, and that was why he’d gripped her arm like that, so she got the message. The realisation made her chest tighten, only a few days ago she’d been with him, Zevran too, and everything had been fine, wonderful even. Maker curse her she’d even considered pursuing him romantically, had both Zevran and herself misjudged him?

She was too enveloped in her thoughts to notice that she had navigated herself back to her room and shut the door behind her.

“Ophelia? What’s the matter, dear? You look unwell.” She heard Zevran’s distant voice, the details didn’t register, and he was so far _away_ , so she ignored him, making her way to the edge of the bed and sitting precariously on it. She looked at her hands, were they her hands? They moved when she wanted them to move, but they didn’t _belong_. She tried to grab back control of her mind but she slid further away the more she tried to get a hold on her rationality, and the very centre of her being.

Somewhere in the depths of her mind was a small voice trying to tell her it was all out of hand, that she was overthinking it like she used to, that she was past this. It told her that she could fight this. And for a moment she almost believed it, she listened as it made attempts to calm her down, soothe her, she began to calm down, the makings of a smile pulled at her lips. _I’m going to be alright_.

In a flash of black, the voice was violently smothered, and back returned the insidious whispers, surrounding her with lies, lies she saw as truth. She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe, what’s happening to me?

 

Zevran continued to talk to her, no, talk _at_ her, to no avail. The blank expression on her face as she stared at her hands, that opened and closed slowly, told him that though she was here physically, her mind was gone. He hadn’t seen her like this for years, she told him that she had finally gained an understanding of how to stop this. So what had shaken her so badly? Because of the lapse in time, he’d forgotten most of what he used to do to help her, he was desperate to do _something_ , but he didn’t know what, or how. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this helpless.

He knelt down in front of her, hoping if he was in her line of sight she’d respond, or at least acknowledge him. Looking at her hands more closely, he noticed that she’d been digging her fingers into her palms so forcefully, small lines of blood had begun to form in the curved imprints. Could she not _feel_ what she was doing? “Ophelia, can you hear me?” He asked, nearly pleading. Her eyes glanced across the room slowly as if she heard him, but couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from. He reached to place his hands over hers, but before he was able to, he saw droplets of blood rising slowly from her palms, perfectly round, red orbs. His heart dropped, she _never_ used blood magic. He darted his gaze to her eyes, there was more white than iris, they’d rolled back into her head slightly. “Shit, Ophelia! Can you hear me?” He shouted, his words becoming more desperate and panicked. He needed to do something before she became a danger to herself, or to him, for that matter.

 

Blood. She could control blood, even if she couldn’t control her own mind. It was so easy, so simple, it eased the voices slightly. The blood gave her respite. She blinked slowly, the voices were hissing, what _were_ they? _Who_ were they? And why wouldn’t they leave her alone? The Calling. Corypheus. Was that it? _Corypheus_. The rifts. The world was ending.

“The world didn’t end with the Blight, you remember? The world won’t end now, either.” Zevran looked up in surprise, she was talking to herself. At least it appeared to be a voice of reason, even if he couldn’t get through to her.

She turned her eyes down to face the blood, it levitated perfectly still despite the churning and thrashing thoughts that harried her mind. She blinked slowly, when her eyes opened again the blood was still there, it was real, she was real. What had she been so upset about? She gently tried to sift through her memories, to find anything that had happened in the past few hours, there was nothing, and oddly enough it brought her a sense of relief. She let the droplets of blood fall onto her palms, her breathing steady and even, her throat no longer felt constricted. Her mind began to ease, the voices dropping away until blissful silence remained.

Before her eyes could refocus on the room, a sharp scent assaulted her nostrils, followed by a shooting pain in the back of her head. She lashed out in front of her, her flat of her hand colliding with a loud smack against something yielding yet hard. In the confusion and sudden shock, she found her eyes trained on Zevran, now sporting a glistening red hand print across the side of his cheek. “Zev! What happened?” She asked, looking at the intrusive and violent looking mark that covered a significant portion of his face, his expression was sorrowful.

“You do not remember.” He stated, in his hands was a small bottle which he was now screwing the lid onto. “Do you remember those… episodes you used to have? I think that’s what just happened, seeing as you have no recollection.” He spoke with a sigh. “Bella, what did this to you?” His concern was genuine, he sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Did I hit you?” She asked quietly, looking at the blood that painted her hands, a perfect pair to Zevran’s face. His silence told her that she had, “Oh, Zev, I’m so sorry, I would never hurt you on purpose.” She rushed her words in a panic, mortified by the newly learnt fact.

“I know, Ophelia, I know. Do not worry, you were not yourself.” He comforted, kissing the top of her head. “Let’s wash up and then see if we can figure out what happened, yes?” He said calmly, though anger rose in his blood, the fact that something had elicited such an adverse reaction in her infuriated him. When he reached the bottom, he was certain that he would make sure the source never made such a mistake again.


	9. Chapter 9

Zevran had cleaned Ophelia’s hands, her eyes were half closed as he worked the damp cloth over the numerous marks on her palms. She had exhausted herself mentally, dark circles appeared under her eyes, and she uttered not a single word as he placed a small layer of bandage over each hand, to prevent the blood from making a mess. Zevran quickly scrubbed the blood off his face, drying himself before returning to Ophelia’s side, helping her stand and walking her to the bed. He pulled back the sheets and allowed her to climb in.

“Can you run me through what you remember happening earlier?” He asked, sitting at the foot of the bed. She strained her mind to try and claw back the memories that evaded her so well,

“I remember going to look for Bull. I’d heard that he and the Inquisitor had returned, and after our conversation I was going to talk to him about it, and ask him how his journey had been. I knew it was an important mission.” She started. “He didn’t say much, or anything, I… I don’t remember. But he didn’t seem happy, and he walked out of the tavern.” She rolled up her sleeves, slowly heating up as the blanket kept the heat that she was radiating, she winced slightly as her hand ran up her right arm. She looked down and to her own shock saw the beginnings of a bruise blooming across her forearm, uncannily enough in the shape of a large handprint, a heavy feeling rolled over her, centring in her chest. To touch the area was painful, but she couldn’t remember _how_ she’d got it, but something that violent, she wouldn’t have forgotten, would she? Maybe it wasn’t just the pain, perhaps it had been something more. Her eyes flicked back up to Zevran to see an expression of concentrated anger plastered onto his features, his eyes were shining with the emotion, though his words betrayed no such anger.

“There’s not much I can do for that bruise; can you use your magic?”

“I feel too drained to, but even so, I want to remember, and the pain memory might help.” She replied quietly.

“I understand,” He stood up as he spoke, “I will return soon, my dear. I have some business to attend to.” He moved over to her and gave her a quick kiss on the temple, his hand grazing her cheek gently before he departed from the room. From what Ophelia had told him, and what he had seen, he felt he had a strong idea about what had happened, and who was responsible, he was certain.

* * *

 

With a murderous gaze in his eyes, he made his way towards the tavern, to where he assumed the Iron Bull would be. His focus was interrupted by Luciana, who put a hand on his arm.

“Zevran. I saw Ophelia, she looked upset earlier, is she okay?” She wore her concern plain on her face, Luciana clearly still cared a great deal for the woman she once loved, an understanding that the pair of them had reached, they knew either one of them would do anything for her.

“If you could retrieve something hot to drink, and perhaps something to eat, that would be good. Perhaps you could stay with her too? She is not well.” He spoke solemnly, watching Luciana as a conflicted expression flashed across her face, she hesitated with indecision, before resigning herself to her response.

“Of course, I’ll see right to it.” She dipped her head briefly before making her way to collect what Zevran suggested she should. At any other time, he would have questioned her hesitation, but in this instance, he was far more concerned with his primary agenda, and he continued on the journey towards it.

He reached the tavern in no time, spurred into action by his newfound enmity towards the man who dare hurt Ophelia. The calm lethality brushed over him, forming a wall between his true emotions and the collected façade of an impeccably trained assassin. He found the qunari lounging languorously in his seat, his eyes fixed on nothing, a drunken haze was upon him, and the picture became ever clearer to Zevran, and greater did the black anger within him grow. Their eyes met, and a look of regret came over him, though what _for_ was a complete mystery to Zevran. A vicious smile elongated across Zevran’s lips as he gestured to the door behind him, his gaze still boring into the Iron Bull’s. He understood the motion as the qunari rose to his feet, at which point Zevran retreated through the door which he had only just stepped through, waiting for the grey skinned behemoth to join him.

He heard the thumping footsteps slowly approach from where he had now positioned himself, leaning against one of the many grey stone walls in Skyhold, this one close to the tavern. He inspected his nails in an unnatural state of calm, just _waiting_ for what explanations the Bull could possibly give for what he had done to Ophelia. The thought scraped across his brain every time he gave it consideration, bile turned in his stomach as the man stood, towering, in front of him.

“With that look of shame smeared across your face, you clearly know that you are in, how is it said? _Deep shit_.” It was a surprise to himself that he was able to maintain the tone of nonchalance in his voice that he currently possessed. He was able to draw up this voice when addressing targets, they were never anyone important to him, and he was only ever doing his job. But now, he was addressing someone who had dare lay a hand on the person that meant _everything_. “You best start explaining, I think, before any… _accidents_ , happen.” He raised an eyebrow, the smile still painted on his lips. The qunari heaved a deep sigh, opening and closing one of his fists, wincing ever so slightly as he did, Zevran flicked his eyes down to see the Bull’s knuckles dried with blood. “I still hear no explanation.” Zevran’s words were jarring. “ _Speak._ ”

“I care about Ophelia a great deal.”

“Starting with lies! A fantastic way to start! Would you like to correct yourself before I _truly_ begin to maim you?”

“Katoh. Please, just let me explain, everything.”

“Then _talk._ ” Zevran’s jaw tightened the more Bull avoided giving him an answer, the dark fury roiling through him.

“As you know, we returned from a mission today, I had arranged for the Inquisition to make a deal with a Qunari dreadnought. Some vints began trying to seize the ship, with the Chargers on the shore, the Inquisitor had to choose, so she chose to save my Chargers, leaving the dreadnought to be overrun with Venatori. That act of betrayal means,” He hesitated, “It means I’m now Tal-Vashoth, exiled for my actions. While I was happy to have my men back alive, no longer being under the Qun, being Tal-Vashoth, it takes some getting used to.” To Zevran, his words seemed genuine, and even as he watched his expression, there seemed to be no indication of lying. He let him continue. “We returned and Ophelia, kind Ophelia, she came to find me, I- I never heard what she wanted to say to me, but she seemed so excited.”

“All because you nearly crushed her arm on account of what? There is _nothing_ that woman could ever say to warrant violence against her, from someone who _claims_ to care.” Zevran spat back at him, sending a pained expression sharply across the Iron Bull’s face.

“Romantic attachments are forbidden under the Qun, an unnecessary distraction. I’m sure similar rules are followed in assassin guilds. Sex is a normal part of our lives, anything more than that is frowned upon at best. And I- I began to _fall_ for her, it went against everything I had ever known.” The pain conveyed in Bull’s words made him pause, which gave Zevran time to think over his words. It was uncanny, almost to the letter how he had felt when his feelings for Ophelia began to bloom, he almost felt _sorry_ for Bull in that moment. “And if that wasn’t frustrating enough, from the start she told me she was with _you_ , and that all she wanted from me was sex, and I _knew_ it and _agreed_ to it.” His words got louder. “And I _still_ fell for her. Seeing her, she’s a reminder of the one thing I can’t have, will never have. After all I’ve lost, losing her too,” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Now Zevran truly _did_ feel sorry for him, if he was telling the truth that is. “My reaction was out of anger, I never meant to hurt her. Normally my grip is never a problem with other qunari, we’re more… durable, I guess.” Zevran’s expression didn’t change as he considered what to say next. The man stood before him had been an agent for the Qun, a spy no less, the Ben-Hassrath were famed in Antiva, with various assassin’s guilds attempting to use their techniques, all failing spectacularly as the Qun kept their methods so well hidden. But somehow the shared affinity over Ophelia, a part of him wanted to believe him, the Bull’s anguish seemed entirely real. While the thoughts had been rolling around in his head, he took a moment to realise that almost all of his anger had dissipated as Bull had gone on talking, it had been replaced with pity and sympathy for the hulking man stood in front of him.

“That is truly how you feel?”

“Yes. I can leave you both alone if that’s what’s best. I shouldn’t interfere anymore, I’ve clearly caused enough problems for the both of you.”

“But, dear Bull, do you not want to know what Ophelia was so desperate to tell you?” Bull remained silent. “She and I had been discussing your… presence in our lives, her more than mine for obvious reasons, she knows you better. She was equally conflicted, you know, guilty almost. You see, she had told me that she had developed feelings for you in the time I had been away, and yet she could not act on them, did not _want_ to act on them, because she loves me, and she wanted nothing to come in between us. Which I understand, she is nothing if not honest, and sometimes feels guilty for things she shouldn’t, like in this instance. As you said so yourself when we first met, I believe that we would get on very well, at least until tonight’s _episode_ , I would have agreed, I had agreed. She was coming to tell you that we would be willing to bring you into our relationship, and see how it went from there.” A look of shock broke over Bull’s face. “Yes, truly. But instead you have somewhat diminished your chances of that happening.”

“You were really gonna do that?” He asked, his voice almost hopeful.

“Were being the operative word.” Bull’s face fell. “Though, that is not to say you are unredeemable. I once thought I was a monster, ruthless and uncaring, and I always thought I would be so, yet here I stand. I have been given more second chances than I deserve, so it seems only fair that I should offer you this life line, no? But let me make myself clear. If you _ever_ so much as harm a hair on her head without permission, I will kill you.” There was no mistaking the seriousness in Zevran’s voice.

“Yes, of course. I would never hurt her, not again, just as you wouldn’t.” For such a large man, his voice sounded so small in that moment. Zevran amused himself at the thought of two previously ruthless and calculating men, their hearts captured by the same woman. If things weren’t coincidental enough already, what were the chances of this being the same, too? _Greater than I could ever probably imagine. Ophelia truly is one of a kind_.

“It is getting late, I think we should both get some rest, don’t you? We can conclude this matter another time.” Zevran spoke with a sense of finality, “Good night, Bull.” Were his last words to the man before he walked away, returning to Ophelia’s room confidently, all the while wondering if he had made the right decision not only for himself, but for Ophelia, too.


	10. Chapter 10

Zevran returned to Ophelia’s room to see her own sleeping figure, with untouched food and tea gone cold at her bedside, though Luciana was nowhere to be seen. A warm smile spread over his lips as he finally saw her looking peaceful, and _asleep_. At times like these, he’d found that she was almost always too paranoid or simply upset to let herself rest, and so the scene before him was a pleasant surprise. Exhausted, he stripped down to his underclothes before climbing in the bed, lying on his side so he was able to face her. Surprisingly, sleep came easy enough for Zevran too, despite the uneasiness that had plagued him minutes earlier when talking to Bull.

The next day, both Ophelia and Zevran lounged in bed until late afternoon, simply enjoying each other’s company, catching up on all the moments they had missed because of their time apart. They missed doting on each other, the presence of their lover, both of them gave thanks to the god they didn’t believe in for moments like these. They would pray to any deity if it meant they could spend more time together.

Ophelia was in better spirits now, the events of the previous day seeming to have lapsed in her memory, which Zevran was incredibly glad of. He knew he would have to broach the subject of the Iron Bull sooner or later, there was only so long he felt he could keep the man waiting. But leaving it a little while longer wouldn’t do him any harm, and Ophelia seemed to be in such a good mood, the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it.

The two remained in bed for a while longer, sharing lazy kisses and tales of adventures they had faced individually. Zevran felt as if he was finally home, with her in his arms, he truly was. He wondered if he would ever think about Bull in the same way, or for that matter if Ophelia would be able to, she did not take actions like his lightly. The closer Zevran came to telling her about offering Bull a second chance, the more concerned he became about her reaction. He had faith in her, there was no doubt about that, but given her adverse reaction yesterday, he couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t follow suit today as well.

“So, my dear, do you feel well enough to discuss the Iron Bull? There are some things that must be discussed.” Concern drew over Ophelia’s face,

“You didn’t kill him. Wait, did you _kill_ him? I thought we talked about this!”

“Heavens no! I am a man of my word, bella. He is very much alive, though ailing, that is what I wanted to talk about.” Zevran heard a significantly large sigh of relief come from Ophelia.

“Thank the Maker. What did you want to talk about?”

“He is regretful of his actions, he said as much yesterday when we spoke. He cares for you a great deal, Ophelia, he wants to ask for your forgiveness.” He waited on her response, and the one he received was not one he expected, her face contorted into an image of anger before she spoke.

“You _believed_ him? He’s fucking Ben-Hassrath, Zevran! He’s a professional liar! He’s a qunari spy!”

“And the reason we met was because I was sent to kill you and Emilia, if you recall. If I was worthy of redemption in your eyes, then so is he.”

“Your life was forfeit and your contract null the moment you failed to kill us, Zev. Bull still lives under the Qun, he’ll betray us.” Her words were tinged with a sad realisation, had he still been Ben-Hassrath, Zevran would have agreed with her.

“He is no longer Ben-Hassrath, my dear. He is… how do you say it? _Tal-Vashoth._ What you didn’t get to find out yesterday is that the mission with the dreadnought failed, and Bull was declared an exile.” It took Ophelia a moment to process the information, she propped herself up on an elbow.

“You’re certain?”

“I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t, my love.” He replied, taking her free hand, kissing the top of it. “But the decision, ultimately, is yours. I have made peace with the man, mainly because I am in no place to judge him. But his intentions are true, as are his feelings, but again, do what you will.” Ophelia bit her lip, visibly mulling over the options in her head. He watched patiently, his eyes trained on her face, waiting for any indication that she had reached a decision. The concentration dissipated from her face and her features softened, she had deliberated and decided on _something_. But what that something was, Zevran assumed he would be made privy to later, as it came to his attention that Ophelia now had other things in mind. She threw a leg over him, the covers falling off her as she moved. She looked down into his eyes, arms either side of his chest, she rested her weight on his waist before leaning down and planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

“It occurred to me how little time we’ve spent together, considering your… voracious appetite.” Ophelia remarked, a coy smirk on her lips, Zevran smiled back up at her, snaking his arms around her waist. She felt a growing hardness begin to press against her, she giggled, rocking her hips with an agonising slowness. “I take it you agree, then?” A low growl emanated from him, she could feel it reverberate through her chest. She had no time to react as he flipped her over, Zevran now lying on top of her, with the lethal and lithe grace of a well-trained assassin. A small gasp left her lips as her back hit the mattress, before pulling him into another kiss.   
It was safe to say that none of the skills Ophelia had been taught had been forgotten, much to Zevran’s pleasure.

That same afternoon, the Inquisitor had spoken to Bull, and he had requested that she hit him with a stick, again. The situation with Ophelia and Zevran frustrated him greatly. It had been his own fault, yes, but it didn’t mean that the fate of his heart didn’t now lie in her hands, the thought of his heart even being in a position to be held by someone scared him. It was just something that the qunari didn’t do. But now he was Tal-Vashoth, it didn’t matter what he thought qunari did anymore, now he was only qunari by race.

“Harder.” He said gruffly to the Lady Trevelyan, and she did as he instructed. “Stupid fucking emotions.” The constant thwack of the stick against his torso muting the sound of his voice.

“Is this _really_ the best way to deal with your problems?” Callisto asked with a grunt, gripping the stick as tightly as she could, putting all the force she could muster behind each swing.

“No talking, just hitting.” Was all he said. Callisto chuckled and shook her head,

“I don’t expect Ophelia will understand this ritual of yours.” Bull looked at her in disbelief, “You thought I wouldn’t notice? Bull, you aren’t exactly the subtlest of men, in case you hadn’t noticed. And if that wasn’t enough, Leliana knows _everything_ ,” she continued, swinging the stick with such force that it snapped in half, narrowly avoiding hitting her in the face.

“Shit,” Bull whispered, “I’m waiting for her to get back to me. I fucked up,” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, if it means anything, Bull, I wish you the best in the situation. You’re a good man at heart, and I think she knows it, too.” She bowed slightly towards him, “And about the stick, I’ll find a new one, in case you need, well, hitting.” She laughed, dropping the half of the stick she’d been holding before walking away.

Ophelia had witnessed the tail end of the Inquisitor hitting Bull with a stick, the whole scene confused her. Was it a qunari training exercise? She gave a small gasp in shock when she saw the stick break, and Bull not even so much as flinch. Mostly she was surprised at the strength of the mage Inquisitor, as she knew that she herself wouldn’t be able to swing the pole hard enough for it to break against him, though the idea seemed fun. After the Inquisitor took her leave, Ophelia mustered her own courage and walked over to Bull, her previously seated heart knocking maniacally at her ribs with every step. She’d seen the Inquisitor and Bull converse across the distance, the man looking ashamed as he spoke to her, though she thought it might have been in relation to her, it did nothing to assuage her anxiety as she drew nearer.

The Bull looked up, his eyes falling on her, his expression changing unconsciously to match her own. An air of uncertainty surrounded the two of them as they left the silence unfilled, simply exchanging short, nervous glances. It was Ophelia who spoke first,

“I’ve thought about what happened,” she started, “And about us, too.” Bull’s chest seized with anticipation, thinking about the worst, yet hoping for the best. “And I-“ she sighed, “I think you deserve a second chance. I mean, I fell in love with a man who was sent to assassinate me, so… you’re not all _that_ bad. I just, at the time when you… it was such a shock from what I thought I knew, and you’re so _strong_ , you could’ve broken my arm, you could have broken _me_. It just hit me all at once and I didn’t know what to do,” she admitted. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, pleading _him_. It took everything in Bull not to fall at her feet like a shambling supplicant,

“I can’t thank you enough, Ophelia. I don’t deserve this after what I did to you, but thank you, _thank you_ ,” the words were all he could manage, he wanted to explain everything to her, tell her what he had done had all been a mistake, but the words stuck fast on his tongue, “Thank you.” He repeated. She reached for one of his hands, gently clasping his large fingers, allowing him to lay his thumb over the back of her hand. He looked at her again, the taut feeling in his chest eased, softening, allowing something he thought resembled affection take over, “Kadan.” He whispered, thinking to himself, _this is what love feels like_.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! My first fully finished project! It's a bittersweet feeling you know, but here lies the end of the road. In this story at least. Maybe I'll write other bits of their story, Ophelia's past, her future, who knows! The world is my oyster, and I am very much open to suggestions.   
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story, it means the world to me.

“I can’t believe it’s over, we made it, all of us,” Ophelia said incredulously, though she was grateful that she _could_ say those words.

“A part of me can’t believe it either,” Bull admitted, putting his arm around her, “but I had two more people that believed in me, and supported me every step of the way.” He added, smiling as he turned to face Zevran, who was sitting on the other side of him in the oversized bed.

“You did well, my dear,” Zevran purred, looking back at the qunari, “from what I heard, it was a fight that almost reckoned our own during the Blight.”

“Maybe,” Bull chuckled, “I think it’s best to leave Varric to tell extravagant tales, don’t you?”

“Agreed, he made me far less mopey than I actually was, so for that, I commend him.” Ophelia giggled. Bull allowed a warm smile to crack across his face, the three of them had finally settled into a rhythm, the two beginning to trust Bull fully, now Tal-Vashoth, there were no worries of him betraying them. Though Ophelia’s choice in men certainly seemed concerning in the least, she didn’t look the type to pick dangerous men, yet two of them were in her bed, worshipping her very being. She knew how to pull their strings without even _trying_. The light feeling in his chest began to slip away as a realisation took over,

“You know I’m gonna have to leave soon, right? New mission for the Chargers,” There was a hint of sadness in his words, he loved his work, but he didn’t want to leave them behind. In truth, he was conflicted, he loved the two people at his side with all his heart, and having _finally_ reached a point where they felt the same, he was going to leave them.

“Hm,” was all Zevran gave in reply, Ophelia staying silent. “That may be so… Perhaps you have two vacancies needing to be filled? By two _very_ skilled people, only the best for the Iron Bull, you see. And would you look at that! They’re right here, in this room,” Zevran’s tone was coy, but his words were far from that. Ophelia nodded in agreement with the idea,

“A spirit healer and a world class assassin? Working for you? Almost sounds too good to be true,” She added, allowing a smile to spread over her lips.

“I think that can be arranged, the boss is a pretty relaxed guy, you know.” Suddenly, all three of them were grinning.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ophelia replied, kissing him softly on the lips.

“I guess you’ll be stuck with us then,” Zevran spoke, giving a dramatic sigh.

“But who ever said that was a bad thing?” Bull replied, turning to Zevran and giving him a passionate kiss, “I will warn you, you’ll be following a _lot_ of orders,” His grin turned devilish.

“Ah, but what’s new?” Zevran retorted, pulling him closer, kissing him again. Bull pulled away, so he could speak,

“I never want to have to miss you,” his tone more serious, “So you coming with me, it’s an idea I could get on board with, even if you weren’t fucking talented,” He admitted, his features softening. Ophelia laid a hand on his cheek, smiling gently,

“It’s the last thing we want to do, too.” Her thumb ran along one of the scars adorning his face, “But I suppose it’s also rather nice that mercenary jobs aren’t the _only_ thing we’re good at,” She smirked, hungry eyes flicking across to Zevran.

“I think celebrations are in order, don’t you? And what better way to celebrate?” Zevran said, gesturing to the three of them. “It is well deserved, no?”

“I love you both,” Ophelia said quietly, as she moved herself until she was sitting on Bull’s lap. He looked at her, then at Zevran, before saying to himself,

“Kadan.”

“Kadan?” Ophelia replied, eyebrows raising in confusion.

“Kadan,” Zevran stated, “My heart.” He threw the sheets off the bed, before joining his two loves, with the knowledge that they would _always_ be together, and none of them could say they wanted things any different.


End file.
